


Happiness is a warm gun

by kaze no kokyuu (Tigurijia)



Category: Kamen Rider - All Media Types, Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Family, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Family Angst, Gen, Memory Loss, Repressed Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25240594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigurijia/pseuds/kaze%20no%20kokyuu
Summary: He was happy for Horobi, but at the same time he felt sad for having become a complete stranger in his eyes. He felt horrible just thinking something like that and if he had to express his real feelings he would probably feel even more guilty.Horobi and Jin are reborn as human beings, Horobi has a family of his own, Jin is an artist. But Horobi has no memory of Jin, and Jin does.
Relationships: Horobi & Jin (Kamen Rider Zero-One)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Happiness is a warm gun

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Dizzy for beta reading this story!

Horobi looked with interest at the canvas in front of him: the dense brushstroke, melancholy colours and a hinted but impressive stroke that managed to break through even in people like him who didn't know much about art. The theme of the exhibition was "Humans and Humagear" and the author of those works had been able to perfectly convey the relationship established over the years between the two races; Horobi's wife, an art lover, had received as a gift from a friend some tickets for the exhibition of a rather famous emerging painter. 

Initially, Horobi had taken the opportunity to spend a day together with his family in a way they hadn't done in a long time, but once he arrived on the scene the exhibition turned out to be more interesting than expected and it managed to get his enjoyment. 

"After what's happened in recent years it seemed impossible that humans and Humagear could make peace, but all's well that ends well." Horobi turned towards that voice and a boy in his twenties entered his field of vision: wavy dark hair, eyes of the same colour and an enigmatic expression masked by a friendly smile. Horobi remembered seeing the photo of that young man at the entrance, Jin, the artist of the exhibition. But it wasn't just that, something was off.

"Right, it almost doesn't seem real." Horobi replied uncertainty, looking with his tail in his eye at the young man as he continued to stare at the details of the painting in front of him: a giant hawk with reddish feathers about to take flight. The title of the work was "Burning Falcon". This work interrupted the flow of the previous depictions and Horobi, reading the caption beside the canvas, learned that it was a representation of a dream of the author. Staring at it, he felt an indescribable sense of familiarity, as if he had already seen that image somewhere, however it was impossible. 

"Do you like art, Sir?" At that question Horobi turned to meet Jin's gaze, he seemed to be at ease, much more relaxed than he was. The way he looked at him, however, didn’t seem to be due to the fact that he would judge him by his answer, quite the opposite.

"In all honesty, I’m not very much into art... But your works are fascinating." He opted for the card of honesty, arousing a genuinely amused laughter at the other and that feeling of familiarity proportionally increased in Horobi who began to feel clearly disoriented in the company of that stranger. He had never been so in tune with a stranger, almost as if his laughter and gestures, reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t really remember who. 

The succession of thoughts were interrupted by a small hand that grabbed Horobi's, the man reciprocated the grip and his son looked first at his father, then with a curious expression the stranger next to him.

"Daddy, give me a piggyback ride, I want to see that drawing!" He cried out loud, pulling his father's arm with a buzzing excitement, Horobi sighed, smiled condescendingly at his son and very easily lifted him up, carrying him on his shoulders. 

"Which one?" 

"The one with the giant scorpion, I want to look at it closer!" 

Horobi bent his head slightly to greet Jin, who replied with an indecipherable expression: the man noticed his narrow lips slip into a thin line, the attempt to strain a smile not genuine as before. 

"Take care, Horobi." 

The man turned in amazement to the artist, only to see that the artist was no longer around. 

He had never told him his name.

***

Jin was surprised to see Horobi's name among the visitors list, he didn't believe in destiny and he had reason to believe Aruto was behind that invitation. He has always imagined how Horobi would have been like as a human but seeing him flesh and blood were two totally different concepts. Two different types of emotions that clashed with each other.

Jin's first perceived impression was that Horobi was very happy: accompanied by a beautiful woman and a child with blond curls very similar to him, it was certainly his family. Jin felt a strange tightness in his heart at the sight of that scene, he had never seen Horobi smile so spontaneous and serene. At least, not with him. And at that moment he wished more than anything else that he could forget his past, just as Horobi had done.

Trying to speak to him was a test of masochism, partly because he was sure he hadn't recognized him, but also because seeing him interact with his family was as painful as receiving a bullet in the chest. 

He was happy for Horobi, but at the same time he felt sad for having become a complete stranger in his eyes. He felt horrible just thinking something like that and if he had to express his real feelings he would probably feel even more guilty. 

He wanted to reveal his identity to Horobi, tell him that in another life he had been his father, Humagear, and that after a series of unfortunate events he had committed horrible crimes, betrayed him, and then things had fallen apart without him being able to say "I love you" at least one last time. 

Now human, Jin knew the meaning of the word “regret” he felt that state of mind every time his mind wandered to thoughts about his previous path and tears threatened the corners of his eyes. And again, he wanted to tell that every painting on display at that exhibition was not the result of a dream, but a fragment of his memories from Humagear: their battles, victories and even defeats. His feelings more vivid than ever, every brushstroke on the canvas had been imprinted thinking of him, hoping that one day he would be able to see his works and recognize him. 

But he was not so selfish as to deprive Horobi of the happiness he deserved, reborn as human with the natural ability to become a father and not the artificial one of a role forced by being Humagear. Moreover, reality was very different from imagination and although Jin had let Horobi's name slip away in a vain attempt to perceive something, he fled with shame as soon as he had the chance. 

He reached the back door of the art gallery room, sliding his back against the nearest wall until he was practically on the ground. He breathed deeply in the futile attempt to calm his wheezing breath, his heart pounding in his chest as never before in his life. 

He had died twice like Humagear, but living as a human being was even more painful.


End file.
